Baby's First Christmas

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Believe me, it won’t sound any clearer now.” She thought of Travis and the annoying phone call last night. “All I know is that my unborn child’s uncle is an ass.”

  “He just appeared out of the blue? For no reason?”

  “Oh, there’s a reason, all right. I told you, he wants custody.” Just talking about it had her throat tightening. “The bastard is willing to make ‘compensations.’ As if I’d sell my baby.”

  Nicole knew that look in Marlene’s eyes and could almost feel sorry for Sullivan Travis. She had no doubts that Marlene had put him in his place royally. “Do you think he’ll try to bother you again?”

  “I don’t think, I know.” She sighed, exasperated. “I’ve been refusing his phone calls, but he got through last night at the house and wanted to meet with me again now that I’ve had ‘time to think it over.”’

  “Did you tell him to go to hell?”

  “I think he got the message.” Marlene rested her bottom against the top of the desk. She tried very hard not to let pregnancy slow her down, but there were times when it seemed to hit her right between the eyes. Or a little lower, she thought in momentary amusement.

  “Do you think you should get in contact with Monty?” Nicole asked, referring to their family lawyer.

  “Not yet, but I will if I have to. Right now, I’m not going to think about Travis. The holidays are coming. I’m pregnant, and I’ve got a social function to attend tonight.” Her mouth curved as she remembered. “One he wanted to ‘escort’ me to. That’s when I hung up on him.”

  “That sounds like you.” Nicole looked at her sister’s face. “You look tired, Marlene. Why don’t you stay home tonight instead of going out?”

  Marlene knew exactly what Nicole thought of the social get-togethers she attended. Her sister felt that they were full of pompous people who liked to hear themselves talk. Who liked to have other people hear them talk. She thought the assessment unfair. But whether it was true or not, business was business. She had to attend. Besides, she had promised Cynthia.

  “It’s the best place to make connections, Nic,” she reminded her.

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, those almighty connections. Where would we be without them?”

  A wall materialized between them, the one that always rose when their diverse approaches to life came up. “Don’t use that tone with me, Nicole. You sound just the way you did when you talked to Father.”

  Nicole’s eyes held her sister’s. James Bailey had been heartless; Marlene wasn’t. She couldn’t stand to see her sister waste her life away in some office. There were more important things than work. Marlene had to know that, or why else would she have gone to the trouble of getting pregnant?

  She frowned. “Maybe that’s because sometimes you sound just like Father. Like now.”

  Marlene retreated behind the desk. Splaying her hands across the chair’s high leather back, she drew herself up. “You’re pregnant and your hormones are running havoc on your judgment, so I’ll overlook that remark.”

  “Don’t overlook it, take it to heart.” It was a frustrated plea.

  And then she relented. Nicole rarely employed retreat, but she knew its value. Because Marlene was her sister and she hadn’t come by to antagonize her, she dropped the subject.

  Nicole rose slowly from her chair. Another couple of minutes and she wouldn’t be able to get up at all. Her leg felt as though it had fallen asleep. The baby, ever restless, had apparently shifted its elephantine weight over a nerve. “Maybe I’d better get going and let you do what you do best.”

  Marlene frowned as the buzzer sounded on her desk. She depressed the speaker button. “Yes, Wanda?”

  Her secretary’s crisp British accent filled the air. “You wanted me to remind you of your twelve-thirty meeting, Ms. Bailey.”

  Marlene mechanically reached for the folder she’d been reviewing earlier. Where had the morning gone? She’d meant to finish up the idea she was working on before joining the others for a brainstorming session to revamp a car manufacturer’s stodgy image. She’d always liked being prepared, but it still wasn’t completed.

  “I’m already on my way.” Marlene’s finger slipped from the small key, and Wanda’s presence instantly vanished. Marlene could feel Nicole’s eyes on her, studying her critically.

  “Slow down, Marlene, or this baby you’re about to have isn’t going to have a mother to help him or her celebrate a first birthday.”

  Marlene opened her mouth, then closed it again, reshuffling the words that were on the tip of her tongue. Nicole was only being concerned. And sometimes, it did feel good to have someone care if she ran herself into the ground.

  “You’re right, I am doing too much. It’s just that—”

  “You can’t let go.” Their father had always said that. Nicole’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but those aren’t original words.”

  Marlene had been at the office since six, and she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Stop hinting that I’m Father.”

  “Who’s hinting? Aren’t you listening? I’m stating it outright.”

  The baby kicked hard, hitting something that felt very vital. Marlene winced. “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

  Nicole merely nodded as she began walking toward the door. Almost there, she stopped and turned around. “Oh, and by the way…”

  Her tone was far too nonchalant for Marlene to be fooled. Now they were getting down to it, she thought, crossing to where she stood. Now they were getting to the real reason that Nicole had come by.

  “Yes?”

  Nicole dug into her purse and produced an envelope. “This came yesterday.” She held it up to her sister. “I’m sure it was sent in error.”

  Marlene didn’t have to look at the contents to know what her sister was talking about. She’d mailed the envelope herself the day before yesterday. It contained a single piece of paper. A check against Nicole’s trust fund.

  Exasperation shimmied through her. Nicole could be so damn stubborn. Marlene made no move to take the envelope from her. “So that’s why you’re here?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Crossing to the desk, Nicole dropped the envelope on top of a folder.

  Marlene struggled not to lose her temper. “Nic, grandmother’s money must be gone by now.”

  Nicole shook her head. “Not yet,” she answered mildly. “There’s still some left.”

  Nicole’s tone belied the feelings of frustration churning within her. She hadn’t wanted to wind up in these circumstances, pregnant and widowed, on the threshold of the rest of her life but caught in a holding pattern. But she would be damned if she was going to take handouts. She had always wanted to earn her own way, and she was going to do just that. Very soon.

  “I stretched it,” she told Marlene. An ironic smile curved her soft mouth. “Some things I did pick up while living under James T. Bailey’s reign of terror.”

  It felt right referring to her father by his given name, more so than calling him Father. He’d never been that to any of them. Only biology had made him a father, not love. Never love.

  Nicole shrugged. “Being frugal comes in handy these days. And,” she added needlessly, “I do work at the art gallery.”

  That wasn’t earning her anything and they both knew it. “A few days a week.”

  Nicole remained unfazed by her sister’s sharp tone. “The holidays are here. I’m almost full-time. It all adds up.”

  Marlene felt her temper sharpening. Lately, it took very little to set her off. “Why will you accept the art gallery owner’s money and not that?” She waved a hand at her desk to where the check lay. “It’s rightfully yours, you know.”

  The money was part of a trust fund that had taken all of Marlene’s best negotiating skills to set up. Initially her father had staunchly refused to allow it. He’d wanted to cut Nicole off without a penny after she’d run off. But Marlene had finally convinced him, utilizing his vanity as a tool. How
would it look, his cutting off his penniless daughter? He had always been concerned with what others thought of him. In that light, he’d thought of his children as extensions of himself. So he had agreed, and Nicole had benefited—if she would only accept the money.

  “Answer to question one…” Nicole said, holding up a finger. “Because I work for Lawrence, and what I get from him is a paycheck, not charity. Answer to question two…” A second finger joined the first. “It’s rightfully mine when I’m thirty, not now. I can get by, Marlene. And I really don’t want his money.”

  It always came back to that. The feud. “He’s dead, Nicole, can’t you forgive him?”

  “No.” Nicole snapped, then relented. “Not yet.”

  Marlene felt the clock ticking away the minutes between her and the pending meeting. Still, she couldn’t let this matter go just yet. “At least come live at the house.”

  Nicole smiled at Marlene, but she remained adamant on that point as well, even though the invitation was extended to her almost weekly. “No way.”

  For all intents and purposes, their parents were gone. Their father was dead and their mother had disappeared out of their lives years ago. There was no one in the house but her and Sally. Marlene’s voice lowered. She didn’t hear the trace of wistfulness in it. But Nicole did. “I’m not that bad company.”

  Nicole didn’t want to hurt Marlene, but she couldn’t turn her back on what she felt was right, either. “You have nothing to do with it. Call it stubborn pride. Call it not wanting to encounter the ghost of our ‘beloved father,’ whispering, ‘I told you you’d come crawling back.”’

  “Nic—” Marlene reached out to touch Nicole’s shoulder, but Nicole moved aside.

  “Call it whatever you want,” she continued, “but I want to do this on my own—financially.” She tempered her voice and looked at her sister. “Just let me lean on you emotionally once in a while and I’ll be fine.”

  Marlene smiled at Nicole. This was what she wanted, to have Nicole turn to her. If they did it in degrees, that didn’t change things. For now, they were all the family they had. Until the babies were born.

  She shook her head at Nicole, her expression a fond one. “God, but you are stubborn.”

  Nicole agreed readily. “Also learned at Ye Old Inn of Sadness. Besides,” she said, nodding at Marlene’s desk, “I wouldn’t throw any rocks if I were you.”

  The buzzer sounded again like an angry goose that had been ignored. Nicole sighed.

  “Try to enjoy yourself tonight, Marlene.” She patted Marlene’s arm as she slipped by her into the hall.

  Marlene thought of the hours she would be on her feet and sighed inwardly. “I’ll do my best.”

  Marlene slowly slipped on her black pumps.

  She really didn’t want to go to this party. She felt tired and heavy tonight.

  If she could, she would have just collapsed onto the bed and closed her eyes. But even as the idea suggested itself, she knew it was impossible. She had responsibilities. Clients to socialize with and new ones to garner.

  She looked into the mirror, slowly running her hands along the outline of her stomach, trying to visualize the occupant housed within. The one who made her so tired all the time.

  Never had eight months taken so long to drag by. Part of her couldn’t wait for the baby to be born, and part of her, the part that secretly feared the unknown, could hang on just a while longer until she was more prepared.

  She sighed. It felt as if she had been pregnant forever.

  Marlene focused on her reflection. Her hair was piled up high on her head, with tendrils curling along her neck. She knew she looked attractive, but that didn’t change things. She still didn’t feel like attending the party. The prospect of talking about nothing but business wearied her before the night had even begun.

  Not that she wasn’t good at networking. Despite what her father had implied, she had a flair for it. It was a gift. She was good at dreaming up campaigns that could take a flagging product and boost its sales until the manufacturer made an exceptional showing on the market. Schooled at her father’s unbending knee, Marlene had a knack of tuning in to the right buzz words, the right attributes to showcase a product and capture the public’s attention.

  She supposed that it might seem odd to some that with a knack like that, she couldn’t manage to transfer it directly to people. But she couldn’t.

  She’d never had time to relate to people and their natural foibles. Whatever friendships she had were all work related.

  Marlene curled one stubborn wisp until it fell like the others along her neck. Maybe if she had succeeded in getting her father’s approval just once, she wouldn’t have been so intensely involved in work.

  Marlene smiled to herself. It was a sad, knowing smile. If she had succeeded once, she probably would have tried even harder, hoping lightning would strike twice.

  In the privacy of her own room, in the shadows of her own mind, there was no denying the hunger she had always had to win his approval. To win his love. She had believed—hoped really—that there was more to him than he outwardly showed. That was why she had tried so hard to relate to him on his own territory.

  Marlene glanced one last time at her image in the full-length mirror. The flared black velvet evening jacket gracefully camouflaged the fact that she was bordering on something that Greenpeace was taking under its protective wing. Beneath the jacket she wore a wide, floor-length black velvet skirt and a crimson camisole that flowed over it. It was flattering and made her feel a little less like a Sherman tank.

  But not by much.

  Sally looked up as Marlene descended the stairs. “You look like a knockout,” she told her matter-of-factly, and Marlene knew she meant the compliment.

  Sally never wasted time with words she didn’t mean. She was more like a drill sergeant than a housekeeper, but she had her soft edges. Marlene loved her because she felt that Sally always told her the truth, whether it was good or bad.

  “You’re wasting it on those bozos tonight.”

  Leave it to Sally to take everyone down to a common denominator. “I don’t think the head of Acme Oil sees himself as a bozo.”

  Sally grinned as she handed Marlene her purse. “That makes the title all the more fitting. I sure hope you’re not going to be doing this once the baby’s here.”

  Once the baby was here, everything would change. “No, I promise you, the pace will lessen.” She smiled. “You sound like Nicole.”

  “The girl makes sense. Well, if you’re determined to go, go.” Sally shooed Marlene to the door. “Have a good time.”

  Marlene leaned over to brush her lips over the old woman’s wrinkled cheek. “Just for you, Sally.”

  She grinned as she heard the woman muttering under her breath as she closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Four

  She had barely crossed the threshold to Breckinridge’s ballroom when she saw him.

  Sullivan Travis, looking suave in the black tie he had told her about. Even from across the crowded room, she could appreciate the figure he cut in his suit, black, like his hair. There was a strawberry blonde wearing a dress one size too small who appeared to be hanging on to his every word.

  Probably mesmerized by his blue eyes.

  God, listen to her. She was writing an ode to a man who was out to cold-bloodedly separate her from her child. What was the matter with her?

  A combination of being overworked and pregnant, she decided, watching Sullivan. By his bearing, he reminded her of someone who, as the old expression went, was “to the manor born.”

  Well, she wasn’t planning on being some peasant he could just plow under.

  For a moment Marlene wavered, undecided whether or not to just leave. It certainly would be the easier way out, just beg off because of her condition. But that would mean hiding behind it, something she swore never to do, and besides, it was tantamount to running. Also something she refused to do.

  Instead, she cro
ssed the floor, coming at Sullivan like an arrow intent on a target. Bull’s-eye.

  Sullivan looked in her direction a moment before she reached him. He was as surprised to see her as she was him, but he hid it better. He’d learned to allow very little to register on his face. It made for better negotiations when the time came.

  With a swift, gentle movement, he extracted his arm from the woman beside him.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I have someone I need to talk to,” he murmured.

  Sullivan welcomed the reprieve. Janice DuBarry seemed to have her sights set on acquiring a piece of the Travis Corporation, namely him. It was something he was accustomed to and never cared for. Every woman he had ever met saw him only as part of the Travis dynasty, never as Sullivan.

  “What are you doing here?” Marlene demanded in a hushed, angry whisper.

  She looked loaded for bear, he thought. All in all, the lady was some piece of goods. He felt sorry for any man who would become involved with her. Fortunately, that man wouldn’t be him.

  He took her arm, turning her away from Janice, who was very obviously trying to eavesdrop. “I was invited. How about you?”

  Marlene was tempted to say “Like hell you were,” but given his position, he probably had been. Just her luck that she hadn’t thought to obtain a guest list from Cynthia beforehand.

  He didn’t look as if he was smirking at her, but she knew that beneath that smooth exterior, that was exactly what he was doing.

  “I suppose who Cynthia and Alan want to socialize with is their own business.” Now that she knew he wasn’t merely stalking her, she wanted to get away from him. It was a large room, a large party. If she was careful, she didn’t have to cross his path again. “Have a nice time,” she told him icily.

  With that, she began to turn away, but Sullivan took her arm. She stopped, unwilling to cause a scene.